


Catch

by mrs_d



Series: Dead Ends [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (sue me I'm predictable), M/M, yet another take on the 'what makes you happy' scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Sam asked Captain Freakin’ America what made him happy. And this is what he said.





	Catch

When Sam asked Captain Freakin’ America what made him happy, he was half-expecting the “I don’t know” response. It was a pretty common answer, really, among the recently discharged. Not that Captain— Steve, he wanted Sam to call him that — Steve was getting out of the service, but Sam could tell he was just as much a man without a mission as the guys who came to group every other Thursday.

So Sam wasn’t surprised by that. What did surprise him, though, was the way that Cap — Steve — chose to change the subject a second later.

He lowered his eyelids slightly, licked his bottom lip, and asked, “Can I buy you dinner tonight, Sam?”

“Uh,” was the first thing that Sam said. Probably not a great answer. “Like a date?” he blurted out, and that was even worse, oh God.

But Steve smiled, and — holy crap, was he blushing? — said, “Sure.”

“Then yeah,” Sam said, a bit too loud. He could feel his own cheeks burning, too, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’d love to.”

“Okay,” Steve said softly. “Meet you around seven?”

“Sure— wait,” Sam interrupted himself, remembering his schedule. He winced. “I can’t, I have ball practice tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” said Steve, sounding surprised but not disappointed. “Do you play in a league?”

Sam blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh, yeah, I guess so. Just amateur, pretty small. But it’s fun.”

“Whereabouts do you play?” Steve asked. He seemed genuinely interested. “I haven’t seen many diamonds around here.”

“Oh, well, there’s a few,” Sam replied, and before he knew it, he was explaining how early they had to put the request in every year, and how his team captain had had to fight to keep their field booked one night when a group of Congressmen tried to show up for a photo op.

Steve laughed. Hard. “That’s amazing.”

“I try,” Sam replied, with his best flirty grin. It worked — Steve blushed again.

He glanced down at the table, and Sam realized that his hands had been moving on autopilot: the brochures were all packed away, and the box was folded shut. Around them, the hallway was completely deserted. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

“Do you need a hand with that?” Steve asked, nodding at the box after a moment of slightly awkward silence.

“Sure,” said Sam, grateful. He wasn’t quite ready to part ways yet, either. Steve picked up the box, and as Sam led the way to his office, he asked, “So, do you play?”

“Not for years,” Steve said, sounding regretful. “I always wanted to, but... asthma.”

Sam made a soft noise of sympathy.

“The guys and I played around a little during the war,” he went on. “When we had some downtime. Which wasn’t often.”

“No,” Sam agreed, thinking back to the base in Kandahar. There was always a game of some sort going on: touch football, 3-on-3 basketball, ultimate Frisbee. He chuckled to himself, wondering if Steve had heard of that last one. He’d probably be good at it.

“What?” Steve asked from behind him, as Sam unlocked his office door.

“Nothing,” Sam said. He stepped aside, let Steve go ahead and set the box down on his desk. “You should tag along tonight,” he suggested on a whim.

“To your practice?” Steve asked, turning in surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”

It took some effort for Sam to shrug nonchalantly. “Well, it sounds like you’re desperate to see me, so—”

“Desperate?” Steve repeated, cocking an eyebrow, and there he was— the guy who’d teased him yesterday morning at the Mall. Sam grinned. 

“I’ll take you for a Frappuccino after,” he added. “It’ll blow your mind.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “But I’ll have you know I go to Starbucks every morning.”

“Yeah? For what?” Sam asked, calling his bluff.

Steve’s smug face faltered a little. “Coffee?”

“That’s what I thought,” Sam concluded.

Steve laughed again, shaking his head. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet,” Sam assured him, and gave Steve the address. When they shook hands a moment later, Sam held on a little longer, a little tighter than he normally would, and Steve seemed to be doing the same.


End file.
